


The Hunt

by twigglettz



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dom/sub Undertones, Jon is a terrible hunter, M/M, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Smut, that poor tree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 21:47:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7406128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twigglettz/pseuds/twigglettz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Gonna catch us some rabbits," Tormund had declared when the gates behind them closed, clapping Jon on the back and making a beeline for the woods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hunt

Jon had been stuck in his quarters for days, papers piling up on his desk, responsibilities piling higher, and he was pretty sure that winter could come and go before he'd see the wood underneath again. His muscles were sore from being hunched over for so long, back aching from when he'd fallen asleep in his chair, and he wasn't entirely sure when he'd lost feeling in his left foot. So when Tormund had let himself in, bow in hand, and demanded that he should get some fresh air, Jon didn't hesitate.

"Gonna catch us some rabbits," Tormund had declared when the gates behind them closed, clapping Jon on the back and making a beeline for the woods. He glanced back to make sure Jon was following and his smile was so bright, Jon's breath caught in his chest.

Jon was not the best hunter Tormund had ever seen. To say he was noisy was an understatement. He'd taken absolutely no care to look where he put his feet, cracking twigs and crunching leaves, kicking stones and grunting every step of the way. It would only be by the grace of the gods if an animal was still in a three mile range.

"I have an idea." Jon raised an eyebrow at his lover, altogether not impressed at the lack of food so far. "You stand there by that tree and stay put." Tormund had punctuated the last two words with a sharp jab of his finger in Jon's chest, and when he'd opened his mouth to complain, Tormund had simply raised his eyebrows and motioned to the tree. He was mildly surprised when Jon had done as he was told, especially quietly, and Tormund took that as a solid victory. He watched as Jon stomped away before leaning his back up against the trunk, arms folded, an angry scowl across his face. Tormund was about to go back to hunting before he got an idea. It had been far too long since they'd fucked, Jon with his Lordly duties and Tormund with the rehoming of his people. And seeing as there was nobody around, they didn't need to be quiet. He rushed at Jon, pulling him in for a rough kiss, bows dropping to the floor by their feet. Jon had made a surprised noise, but had caught on quickly, kissing back just as hard and Tormund had wondered why they hadn't been doing this an hour ago. They were both half hard already when they broke for air and Tormund used the distraction to turn Jon round.

"Such a good crow," Tormund growled, fingers tangling in Jon's hair and pulling his head back. Jon closed his eyes, whimpering at the sharp pain in his scalp, fingernails digging into the wood underneath his hands. Tormund stepped closer, chest against his back, forcing his whole body up against the bark painfully. He let go of his hair and Jon left his head resting against Tormund's shoulder, beard tickling the side of his face. "Taking orders like a good little whore." Jon relished in the shame, felt the heat of his blush across his cheeks. Tormund rolled his hips up against Jon's arse, his growing excitement painfully obvious, and Jon tried to suppress a moan. Tormund chuckled in response, biting down on the lobe of his ear and Jon gasped at the sensation.

"What if someone sees?" He ground out, voice breathless and completely wrecked even from the little attention he'd had so far. Tormund's hand snaked up his side, thumb stroking his jaw before he squeezed his throat painfully.

"Let them watch then, Snow. Let them see how pretty you beg." Jon could feel the blush spreading down his chest, his clothing suddenly too tight against his skin, and he gasped in a breath when Tormund's grip weakened. He let his head lull forward, forehead pressing against the trunk, trying to keep himself grounded. Jon went to thread his fingers through Tormund's hair, but the larger man stopped him, grabbed his wrist and forced his hand back on the tree.

"No, pretty crow. I want to see how long you can keep them there." Jon was used to Tormund's commands during sex, knew the punishment for disobeying him, so when Jon was given an order, he did it. Tormund stepped back, licking his lips, and wondered what he wanted to do first. It was far too cold to do anything creative, too dangerous for much more than a quick fuck, but he supposed he could draw it out a little. Jon looked back over his shoulder, pupils blown from lust, lips swollen from the kiss, and moaned Tormund's name in a way that could bring whole armies to their knees. Tormund growled and plastered himself up against Jon's back once more, reaching round to fumble with the laces on his breeches. Jon's whole body jerked when he succeeded, and he realised how cold his hand must be, but Jon only keened and started muttering a litany of pleas. He pulled his hand back out, spitting on his palm, before wrapping his fingers round Jon's cock again, pumping slowly. He knew how much Jon hated being teased, how he preferred to fuck hard and fast and often, but Tormund loved nothing more than to keep him on the edge for hours, make him scream and beg and sob underneath him. It was a pity they didn't have time. Jon's hips started moving in time with his hand, fucking his fist, and Tormund realised that he hadn't brought any oil with him. Jon was far too much of a soft southener to keep any on him, worried that someone might find it, so Tormund figured he might get some real fun after all. 

"Hands," Tormund reminded and Jon nodded blindly as he pulled away. He dropped to his knees, pulling Jon's trousers down over the swell of his arse, freeing his cock, and leaving the material bunched round his thighs. He hummed his appreciation at the sight, dragging his fingernails down the pale flesh, watching the faint red lines blossom and disappear in their wake. His fingers traced Jon's crack and he could feel him shudder in anticipation when he pushed his face forward and followed the motion with his tongue. He pushed further, pulling Jon's cheeks apart and licked round the tight ring of muscle. Jon whined above him, opening his legs as far as his clothes would allow him, each breath coming out as a low moan. Tormund chuckled, leaning back to blow cold air against Jon's hole, relishing the squeak of surprise it got him. He leaned back in, pushing his tongue in as far as it would go. Jon's body was as hot as fire against the snow he was kneeling in, and his cock twitched at the thought of him pushing inside. Jon was babbling, begging him to just fuck him already, and Tormund licked two fingers and pressed them slowly into him, using his tongue to keep them as slick as he could. He scissored them, trying his best to open him. When the resistance started to fade, he bit sharply into the curve of Jon's arse and angled his hand just so, stroking his spot, and Jon wailed. He used his free hand to hold his hip, almost convinced that Jon was about to collapse on top of him, before adding a third finger, pushing them in and out at a brutal pace. 

Tormund could barely take it any longer. He scrambled to his feet, almost ripping his trousers as he pushed them down, and pressed his throbbing cock against the cleft of Jon's arse. 

"So pretty," he cooed, rubbing the side of his face against Jon's. He was still babbling, fingernails leaving welts in the wood, and Tormund brought his hands up to rest on his. "My good little crow, open and waiting for me to fuck you. Is that what you want, Lord Commander? To be fucked?" Jon nodded frantically, pushing his hips back against Tormund's, and Tormund was happy to oblige. 

"Lick," he instructed and held his open palm out in front of Jon's mouth. Jon didn't hesitate, tongue darting out against his skin, moaning at the taste of himself on Tormund's fingers. Tormund wrapped the spit-slick hand around his own cock, pumping just long enough to make sure it was coated, before lining himself up against Jon's entrance. 

"Gonna hurt, Jon," he warned, kissing the back of Jon's head. "Just a little." He squeezed his hip gently before leaning forward, pushing the head in. Jon's breathing hitched, and he fell silent for a moment, willing his muscles to relax. Tormund reached round and firmly grasped Jon's cock, trying to distract him from the pain. He nodded and Tormund carried on, far too slowly for either one to really enjoy. He stopped when he was fully sheathed, panting from the effort of not just slamming into him, murmuring encouraging words in his ear. Jon whined and rolled his hips, head falling back on Tormund's shoulder, and Tormund knew a command to go when he saw one. With a hand on each of Jon's hips he started with shallow thrusts, moaning at the extra friction, trying to go as easy on Jon as he could. Jon had different ideas, pushing back hard on every thrust, using his hands on the tree for leverage, and if Jon wanted to walk funny for a week, Tormund was just fine with that. He bent his knees slightly, angling his hips so he'd hit Jon's spot, and pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in. The noise Jon made was so loud, Tormund wouldn't have been surprised if they'd heard him in every one of the seven southern kingdoms. The slight angle change had knocked Jon off balance, and he lost his grip on the tree, chest bumping into the bark. Tormund had pulled his hips back with him, and Jon used the space to scramble for purchase, locking his arms in place to brace for the next thrust. It was just as hard as the last and Jon's vision was blurred from the pleasure, using every ounce of strength to just stay upright. The burn on each thrust was delicious, Tormund's cock splitting him open, and knowing he'd still feel it tomorrow made it all the better. He wasn't even sure what he was saying anymore, just moaning and begging and pleading with Tormund to have mercy. Tormund was grunting behind him, fingers leaving bruise marks on his hips, and Jon desperately wanted to touch him. He wanted to rake his nails across his skin, wrap his arms around him, turn round and pull his face down to his. Tormund knew how frustrated Jon was, could tell by the way his fingers twitched and his hole clenched around him, could see his cock desperate for attention in front of him. 

"Please," Jon sobbed, and he sounded so distraught, so deliciously wrecked, that Tormund couldn't turn him down. He reached round, using his thumb to smear his seed down his length before pumping it in time with his thrusts. Jon had stiffened, crying out with his release, his muscles rippling around Tormund's cock, pushing him over the edge as well. 

They stood there, panting for a moment before Jon let his legs give out, crumpling to the floor on his hands and knees. Tormund sunk down with him after fixing his trousers, running his fingers over Jon's hole, checking for damage. There was no blood, just his release, and Tormund's cock twitched at the memory. He yanked up Jon's breeches, not bothering to lace them, and pulled him backwards onto his lap. Jon squirmed until he found a position he was vaguely comfortable in, fingers twisted in his tunic and face buried in the crook of his neck. Tormund knew the snow would melt under his arse and the crows would ridicule him for pissing himself when they got back, but Jon's content little noises were worth it. 

"You scared away the rabbits," Tormund joked, looking round for their bows. Jon's was several feet away, bent and sticking half out the snow and his was snapped clean in two by the base of the tree. Tormund had a feeling that was Jon's fault as well, the twat.

"Not hungry anyway," Jon murmured, breathing in Tormund's scent before gingerly getting to his feet. He offered a badly scratched hand to Tormund who winced at the wounds, before batting it away and hauling himself up. Jon finished lacing his clothes and reached out to pull Tormund down by his beard, softly pressing their lips together. 

"We need an excuse for the lack of dinner. Bear or wolf attack?" Tormund let out a bark of a laugh, eyes twinkling, and kissed Jon again. He draped his arm around Jon's shoulders, pulling him close to his side, and Jon rested his head against Tormund's shoulder as they slowly started for Castle Black.

"Pack of wolves, definitely. I could take a bear."


End file.
